


lift with your legs

by weatheredlaw



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Brain Damage, Character Study, Enemies to Friends, Father Figures, Gen, mentions of trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:18:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2119926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days, Sarge feels like Caboose doesn't even count as a Blue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lift with your legs

"So this thing goes into _that_ thing."

"That's right, son. Now, look here. You take this socket wrench." Caboose nods, holding the wrench upside down for a second before twisting the right way in his palm. Sarge smiles behind his helmet. "Good. Okay, now just use it the way I showed you." Caboose nods a little too enthusiastically, knocking his visor against the tire of the Warthog before finally getting to work. Of all the things they have to do in this canyon, fixing the jeep seems to be something Caboose can just _do._

"Did I do it right? Am I the best?"

"Yep, you sure are. Now get your ass back to Blue base." 

"Yes, sir!" Caboose still has the wrench in his hand as he takes off, but Sarge doesn't call him back for it. He'll be back over eventually. 

 

 

 

It's not the best idea in the world, and at this stage in the game, it's a little more than hypocritical. But Caboose? He just doesn't work the way other soldiers do. Parts of him are like shadows of another person, like maybe all the messes his team has gotten him into haven't left him feeling so good at the end of the day. Sarge doesn't like to ask a lot of questions, but Caboose enjoys talking, and he pieces it together as their days wear on -- that Caboose used to want to _be_ something, but he just can't remember what it was, now. 

"I used to do this when I was a kid," he says, voice taking that hard edge it always does when he's trying hard to remember.

"Don't break your brain, son. It don't matter."

"No," Caboose insists. "It does. It matters a lot." 

"Look, let's just--"

"I wanted to build things," he decides. "I liked putting things together. And pulling them apart. The pulling apart was the most fun. But also the putting back together part was fun, too." He nods and turns back to the pile of robot parts on the ground in front of them and, for the first time since they started doing this, doesn't speak for almost an hour. Sarge feels a little sad, not listening to the kid's incessant prattle, but interrupting the comfortable silence seems taboo, for the moment, and he's content to just build, same as Caboose. 

"You know, son, when this war is over, maybe you can go back home and do what you wanted to do."

Caboose shrugs. "Maybe. I think this war might never be over, though. Because we are terrible soldiers. Especially me. Also we do not seem to fight very often. We do a lot of talking. Talking takes time."

Sarge watches him go, confused by Caboose's understanding of the war, and maybe just a little bit shaken. 

 

 

 

"If you like Caboose so much then why are we shooting at him?" 

"Simmons, if you hear Grif ask me another God damned question, shoot him in the face."

"Yes, sir!"

 

 

 

"Son, you might, uh. You know you might be able to get a discharge."

"I do not understand. What that means." Caboose has taken apart, rebuilt, and taken apart a stereo seven times already, and Sarge has watched in complete fascination as his nimble hands repeated the task over and over, just because he wanted to. 

"You've got brain damage, son. You need some professional help. Go home, see your family."

"My family lives on the moon. Home is very far away from here. I don't think anyone would send me there? The last time I asked to go home, they didn't answer. So I asked eleven more times and eventually they told me to stop asking." 

"Huh. Doesn't really sound like--"

Caboose isn't done, though. "I think that I like it here better because at home I have a lot of sisters, and my mom and dad do not have a lot of time for me. When I joined the army, they said they were sad, but I knew they were happy because they could give someone my old room." He looks up and, for some reason, Sarge is pretty sure he's smiling. "Here I get my own room and no one wants to take it. No one really ever takes anything from me here. It's nice."

"Caboose! Stop playing fuckin' Lincoln Logs with the Reds and get over here!" Tucker appears over the hill, sounding annoyed. "Seriously, dude." 

Caboose signs and puts the final part back in the stereo. "I have to go, sargeant. Thank you for letting me play with the radio." 

"Sure thing, son." 

"I think we are going to fight soon."

Sarge laughs. "Sounds about right, scumbag." Caboose smiles and gives a strange kind of salute before taking off over the hill. 

If there was something Sarge could for the kid, besides letting him take out whatever frustrations he has on electronics, he would. But at the end of the day, their system seems to work. 

The thing is, sometime Sarge feels like Caboose doesn't really count as a Blue -- that is, until he does.

**Author's Note:**

> the continuing saga of "cat rewatches red vs. blue" and has character feels. i always liked the idea that sarge kinda had a soft spot for caboose, as evidenced by scenes after the zealot when he lets him push the button, or when he lifts the bomb, etc. i think sarge might have more soft spots than he's willing to admit, covering them up with bravado and age and all that jazz. i also headcanon that caboose's multiple traumas caused his degenerative behavior, as he started out in one frame of mind and has devolved into another. but we get glimpses of something he might have been good at -- example, engineering. he does a lot of building, can drive/pilot most vehicles etc.
> 
> anyway that's that.


End file.
